Remember Me For Centuries

One

It started one day last winter. Snow was rushing to the ground, trying to force me to remain inside with my sister, Elena. But we were on our last two days of food, and if I did not go out then, I would never get a chance. So I gathered a knife, a gun, some coins, and a canteen of water, and organized it in to my backpack. Elena watched me, curled up in the corner of the beaten sofa. I walked over and gave her a hug. She wrapped her thin arms around me loosely.

"Be safe," she mumbled in to my chest. I pulled back and looked in to her eyes.

"Of course I'll be safe. I love you," I said before I kissed her forehead. I went to the coat rack and grabbed the dark, leather jacket. As I pulled the jacket on my arms, Elena spoke again.

"Mason, do you think Connie will come back?" Connie is Elena's closest friend, as they grew up together. Her family lived next door, and the girls would sleep over every night for years. 

Then the mob started to raid the streets. This led to many families being raided and killed. Connie's parents were lost to the violence. She managed to sneak through an open window before the mob found her. She hid in our backyard for the rest of the night. After the sun came up, the mob left, and she walked to our door. We took her in and have been taking care of her since.

This continued even after our parents were executed. But I'll share that story later. 

"She always does. You know that," I reassured. I knew for a fact she would come back, but I did not know when. 

Elena's round, blue eyes fell to the ground, and she pulled the blanket over her, then wrapped her arms around her knees. I picked my backpack off the table and exited through the door. I locked the door and started running through the snow. The flakes coated me within minutes, the wind pushing me to the side.

I finally reached the village within an hour. I followed the familiar, barren road toward a small shop. I twisted the knob and pushed open the oak door. The squealing signaled my entrance. I shut the door slowly, then started to walk to the counter. 

As I did so, I bumped in to a cloaked figure. The hood fell after our collision, to reveal a dark-skinned girl with matching dark hair. She glared at Marx, the shopkeeper, then at me, and lifted her hood back over her head as she hurried out of the room.

"What was that about? Never seen her before," I asked Marx as I reached the counter.

"Dunno, she seemed extremely nervous to be here. Just asked what we had, then begged for some seeds, and left without collecting change. Dunno who would want seeds at this time of year, kinda cold to be having some plants growin'. Anywho, watcha need so importantly in this weather?"

"Sounds suspicious. But not our concern I suppose. Do you know how much longer this storm is going to last?"

"S'posed to end tonight, but we only have 'bout twenty-fah hours 'til the flakes start crashin' back down for about another week."

"Hmm." I pulled the coins out of my pocket and placed them on the countertop. "What do you have that's cheap?"

He grabbed the coins, counted them, then bent over the counter and looked around, as if making sure no one else was near by. After he was satisfied, he answered. "I can getcha fifteen pounds of deer fah the price of a rabbit. How's dat sound?"

I shook my head. "No, no, I can't do that. That'll cost you guys."

"Don't worry, Mason. I got the rest covahed."

"Deer costs a lot in winter, though."

"If ye shut up I'll add some of dem berries your sis likes. I can charge ye for those, if ye want."

I finally gave in. "Thank you so much, Marx. I owe you big time." 

He nodded. "Anytime." He pulled a can from under the counter, gave it to me, and walked to the back to get the meat. After he came back, he handed me the sack and waved me away. I thanked him again and again, and he kept telling me it was not a problem. 

I carried the sack over my shoulder all the way to the woods where I lived. The wind had calmed a bit, allowing for easier travel. I was feeling close to happy until I saw impressions in the snow. I bent down to examine the prints. They were facing not my home but an abandoned house not too far off. Curiosity began to drive me to follow the footsteps, but I resisted, feeling the heavy weight of the meat against my shoulder blade. So I turned and sped-walked toward my home.